


My Island Has Cherries, What About Yours?

by PGT



Category: One Piece
Genre: Banter, Baratie (One Piece), Characters Playing Animal Crossing Game(s), Fluff, Gaming, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Zeff is a Good Dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PGT/pseuds/PGT
Summary: It's release day, and Sanji's excited to get Animal Crossing New Leaf. He won't let some asshole stop him from having fun, even if that asshole is upsettingly hot, and keeps showing up at work.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 31
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yes i wrote this at 1 am yES i have other fics im supposed to be updating YES I UNDERSTAND THAT IM A BAD WRITER

On March 20th, Sanji woke up extra early. Not just early, as he was responsible for morning prep at the Baratie, 5 am was nothing to him, and only just early enough to get ready for an all-day rush hour. So he woke up at 3-- or maybe he didn’t even sleep, if he was honest. He was jittery, excited to burn the sixty dollars he’d set aside just for this.

So at 3 am, whether he’d truly rested or not, he got out of bed, dressed for the kitchens, and got to work cleaning freezers and fridges for the morning’s shipment of produce, shoveling grease from grill trays, scrubbing stove hoods and floors. Usually cleaning came after food prep; there were priorities in a kitchen, and unless a stain was molding or attracting pests they were not considered urgent. But food deliveries came at a reasonable hour, and Sanji adjusted.

He measured every fridge’s temperature and marked the shelves which were soonest to expire, noting price adjustments to the menu that Zeff might consider making to discourage food waste. As he dropped the note off in the man’s empty office, the delivery came. He met the van through the kitchen’s back door, surprised to see the regular deliverer, Usopp, absent. Instead, a broad chested asian man climbed down from the driver’s seat, mundane blue coveralls and cap masking much of his features, giving him a nobody kind of appearance. Sanji felt a moment of sympathy for the man, uniforms like that grated on him, at least at the Baratie a white chef’s coat had an air of status to it, and they were offered fitted clothes where this man’s bagged around his legs. He held the same expression as he exited that Sanji felt towards that unfitted fabric, and without much conversation Sanji (along with the grouchy looking delivery man) made quick work transferring the boxes to their designated places.

The van was chock full of seasonal local vegetables and fruits, as well as the few out of season long-distance purchases they couldn’t go without. Sanji took a large bag of beets in both hands, grunting at the weight of the roots. Beside him, the delivery-man must have attempted to hide a laugh, the stifled noise causing Sanji’s ears to burn. “Oh you try carrying it, asshole!”

Perhaps it was how little sleep he’d gotten that caused him to snap so easily. Perhaps he was just like that. But the man didn’t seem to mind, instead turning from the boxes he’d been about to grab, grin broadening on a tanned face. “It’s kind of my job to carry these things,” He replied, taking several boxes of asparagus in one go. Only with the boxes in his arms did Sanji notice the man’s rippling muscles. Even if he did this daily, that was no excuse for arms like that, Usopp certainly didn’t have a pair to match. Realizing he was staring only made his blush deepen, and his arms were getting tired.

For the rest of the man’s momentary appearance he appeared much happier than when he’d gotten out of the delivery van, and as he left, Sanji idly considered that he’d made the man’s day a little better, even if at his own expense.

With that thought in mind, and perhaps more imaginative fantasies of the man’s arms, Sanji continued his prep work, rotating foodstuffs in storage and marking what needed ordered tomorrow and starting what needed started hours before opening. 

At a more reasonable hour, other chefs began filtering in, and morning turned to evening, and evening turned to afternoon. After lunch rush, (though when wasn’t a rush at the Baratie?) Sanji had been promised a few hours of break, in return for his early morning prep. But it wasn’t that simple. Three waiters had called off sick, and there was no moment to catch a breath, let alone take an irregular break, even if he’d made an attempt to lessen the blow it might have on the kitchen. When Zeff came in his grimace said it all: Sanji wasn’t getting that break. He’d be pissed if his job wasn’t ultimately his first love.

So he pressed on, shoving aside his disappointment of plans delayed. It was fine; it wasn’t like they would sell out. And as if a consolation prize, Sanji was blessed with getting to substitute as waiter-- it was something he was good at, and getting orders into the kitchen quickly was rewarded with tips, beautiful women’s smiles, and even two phone numbers written on napkins.

Dinner rush was hell, and the kitchen was piled ceiling-high with dirtied cookware no one had time or free hands to clean. When people finally came in to replace the people who hadn’t showed, Sanji’s calves stung from nonstop walking and standing. His cheeks burned from constant smiles and charming, and his arms were still sore from morning delivery, as well as balancing tables worth of dishes high on one arm.

When it slowed enough that Zeff gave Sanji the go ahead to “Get the hell out of here, Eggplant,” it was eight thirty. They closed at ten, but with a day like this, post-close cleanup might creep closer to midnight, and Sanji was thankful to get off the hook. It put a weary smirk on his face to imagine Patty and Carne scrubbing all the pans they’d pushed on him almost every day of his life.

It was 8:33 by the time Sanji was dressed in something suitable, and 8:38 by the time he was out of the back lot and on his way to the closest shopping mart. It was 8:47, in the parking lot of a dark store that he remembered they closed at the more reasonable time of 8:30.

So he swore quietly, and sat in the near empty lot for a moment, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. 

He’d really wanted the physical copy. Maybe somewhere else would be open? 

Sure enough. Gamestop. 9:00. He could make it.

So he set his GPS and turned back onto the highway, and maybe he sped, but he wasn’t caught, and it was fine, it was important. It was 8:56 by the time he shut his car off, and usually he wouldn’t be the asshole that ran in four minutes before close, but at least he knew exactly what he wanted, it would be quick.

The glass windows casting light from the store reassured him that the Gamestop had exactly what he was looking for. The cheery faces from his childhood looked out from beneath plush peach, pear, cherry, apple and orange trees. And they were so detailed, he could almost feel the tanuki’s fur.

He entered the store, greeted by a cardboard stand of Isabelle on one side, and a character from another game-- some shooter-- on the other. He smiled at the cardboard dog, and was quick to find the stand that was reassuringly stocked with Animal Crossing New Horizons. He took the game from the shelf and, feeling the weight of his extra tips from this evening, decided it was worth splurging on the limited edition Animal Crossing Switch, too. He could give Nami his old one, then it was like he was buying her a gift, not buying himself something he already had.

And then he heard a scoff.

Not just any scoff, but one he’d already heard today. He turned to the right, on the mirror side of the store, where the unfamiliar cardboard character posed before an unfamiliar brand new game.

And next to the cardboard figure, the delivery man from this morning. He was in casual wear now, a simple white t-shirt and black sweatpants (that fit much better than his work pants.) And he was looking right at Sanji.

He made no pretense, seeming to understand and match the recognition in Sanji’s expression. “So you’re that kind of gamer, huh?” the man said, tilting his head, causing three dangling earrings on his left ear to tinkle softly.

Sanji was hardly the kind to give a damn what some delivery van driver thought of him, but he wasn’t about to let the one game that got him through some shitty experiences take a hit like that. “And what’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

He felt himself step away from the stand Isabelle pointed to, and felt a silent gratitude towards the expensive hardware in his arms that kept him from doing something unnecessary. 

“Just a kinda childish looking game, that’s all.” The man eyed Isabelle, and grinned at a thought Sanji couldn’t read. Sanji took the time to eye the game in the other man’s hands. “Doom Eternal.” What kind of shitty edgelord would play a game like that?

Half his mind wanted to keep fighting this guy, make him see the art that was Animal Crossing, inform him that there was an algorithm to the game he could never understand, that there was a beauty to designing a town, and now not just a town but an island, and to making a home meet the Happy House Academy standards. But he’d already lost precious time on the first day, he’d be behind everyone if he let this asshole keep him any longer. So instead he scoffed, and made his way to the cashier, a man that looked about as old as the gaming industry itself, and an afro, band tee and even a feather boa that all screamed of 70’s nostalgia. 

The man was much more appreciative of Sanji’s tastes, not seeming to mind that it was now 9:02, and indulging him in conversation. While he was happy to engage, he couldn’t help but sense the delivery man as he paced the store for seemingly no reason aside from staying away from the counter.

He forced himself not to care, and after paying in cash for both the console and the game, Sanji made his way out. As he pushed the door open, the other man finally came to the counter, and as the doors shut he heard the cashier say: “Zoro, did you finally find the game you were wanting?”

On the drive home, he couldn’t help but be confused. After all, the Doom stand was right by the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro and Sanji meet again! Sanji's sick of this shitty delivery man's opinions but can't jog the butterflies that follow every meeting.

He set up the new console and had the game downloading before 10. After a quick shower and a meal (the first meal he’d had today, he realized,) he was reclined in bed, bright screen illuminating his face. As the music began, he felt his shoulders lax, and with every screen of succession, he felt a deep, childish happiness creep into his heart.

He ignored the voice from gamestop, “kinda a childish looking game.” Who cared if it was! Like hell he was going to call Animal Crossing a guilty pleasure, there was no guilt involved. He pushed that man, Zoro, and his shit opinions out of his mind, instead appreciating his starting villagers, Rolf and Merengue. Rolf wasn’t any kind of favorite, but he’d always appreciated Merengue, for obvious reasons. He could just replace Rolf later. He got through the tutorial tasks and grit his teeth at the shitty clothing options the first day had offered him. He’d started off with an awful red and blue tank top, something he wouldn’t wear in a million years. But he figured he would have to wait for Mable to show up for anything suitable. He plucked his weeds, thought up a basic idea for the final island design, and placed everyone’s tents accordingly, clustering them in what would eventually be an elegant residential space, with room for a central park where the museum would eventually go.

With Blathers in mind, he went to work fishing. He made no effort to catch bugs (hell he didn't even bother making a net,) but had a pleasant stack of fish set aside for the museum’s owl curator once fulfilling the required donations to unlock him.

It was a blessing he’d sat still long enough for the clock to show up on his screen at one thirty. Even after all that happened today, he still had to work tomorrow. And that meant being up and ready at five.

With a pang of regret, Sanji logged out and put his switch in its dock. Even if he'd have liked to play more, it took little time for his overworked body to fall to the siren’s song of exhaustion.

He woke at the usual time, his alarm never failing him. He was still sleepy, and his neck was sore from whatever position he must have been playing in the night before. He ate a quick breakfast of instant oatmeal (at least it was better than a granola bar) and got dressed for work.

He was relieved to see that the kitchen wasn’t left neglected; though some dishes hadn’t been moved from the drying racks everything was at least clean. He didn’t have much time before the sound of the delivery van outside alerted him, and only once he opened the door to greet Usopp did he even consider that it may be his replacement from yesterday again.

Sure enough, there he was. Zoro, as he’d overheard. He stepped from the van like a man half asleep, and Sanji, half asleep himself, idly mourned the presence of the man’s baggy coveralls and how they obscured the man’s figure. 

Zoro stopped in his tracks a few steps away from his door, seeming just as surprised as Sanji that they might meet here two days in a row.

“You always have morning shifts?” he asked through a yawn, before continuing to skirt the vehicle to unlock the back.

“Perks of being the only one good enough to be trusted to do the morning chores right.” Sanji found the man’s yawn contagious, stifling his own. 

Today, the truck was filled with rice and flour, stacks and stacks of forty pound bags. Sanji grimaced at them, remembering the soreness in his arms a few sacks of vegetables had caused yesterday.

“I’ve got it, just get the doors for me yeah?” Zoro said, as if he’d read through Sanji’s expression. But even if he’d have liked to laze around, like hell he’d actually do so. This was his restaurant-- well, Zeffs, but it was practically his, too.

“I’m not as weak as you seem to think I am,” he growled, sucking up his trepidation and eying the closest sack of rice, trying to guess what the best way to haul it would be. But as he eyed it, he watched a tanned arm curl beneath it, and Zoro slung it over his shoulder. Their eyes met as Zoro straightened, another bag under his other arm. “Door,” he said, and not wanting to risk any bag ripping, it wasn’t a debate. He led Zoro into the walk-in pantry, and the man slowly added to each stack of grain or powder. When they got back to the van, Zoro was quick to grab the next two bags, giving Sanji no chance to even try and help, forced to be the doorboy. As much as he enjoyed getting to watch Zoro’s arms flex over the sacks of rice, and how he morbidly admired the sheen of sweat on his neck by the end of the load, he was still annoyed he wasn’t able to help.  
“I could’ve helped.” Sanji murmured softly as Zoro took a moment to sit on the edge of the van’s emptied back. At his belaboured breaths, Sanji let his shoulders drop, “Do you want a drink?”

Zoro nodded, and Sanji got him a glass of cool water. He downed it in one go. With a gasp and a slight cough, he set the glass aside, and met Sanji’s inquisitive gaze. “I never said you’re weak.”

“But you thought it.” Sanji didn’t know why he kept caring what this asshole thought about him.

The man stood up, and took off his blue cap to wipe the sweat from his hairline. He was barely an inch taller than Sanji, but there was a kind of dominant aura to him, maybe it was the sweat, or the capacity to hold 80 pounds consistently for twenty minutes. “I thought, you have a whole day of work ahead of you and I’m used to this, so just let me do my job.”

Sanji didn’t have an argument for that, and let Zoro push the empty glass of water into his hand. Zoro got into his van and left, and Sanji felt the same feeling he felt when a particularly lovely lady pressed a note on a napkin into his hand.

It was stupid to get a crush on a guy just for doing his job, Sanji argued with himself, chopping vegetables for morning dishes. The guy was some shitty first person shooter geek, he thought animal crossing was a kids game! They wouldn’t work out, it was a stupid fantasy that came out of three meetings with the guy. He reasoned he’d get over it after a second or third morning unloading.

And so, after a day of nonstop cooking, and a late night of setting Blathers’ tent up and paying off his loan to Tom Nook, as well as a cursed rare find of Infinite Tarantula Island, Sanji went to bed, and the next day he went to work. 

It was milk. He’d have no trouble helping unload it, and Zoro didn’t argue when he took a crate down from the first stack and made his way to the door, tugging it open with a finger that wasn’t integral to supporting the weight. As he waited for Zoro to catch the door behind him with his body, he felt a spike of competitiveness at the three crates Zoro shouldered. So he led Zoro to the walk-in, and on the second trip he propped the door with a stopper and took two crates. On the third, he took three. His arms barely had the reach to grip the stack properly, but he didn’t back down.

On the fourth trip, he took three crates, and nearly dropped one. Zoro, whose arms were already full with his own stack, still found a way to stop the crate’s disent, pressing his hip against Sanji’s, catching the crate long enough between their bodies that he could adjust and free a hand to pick it up entirely. 

He should have been annoyed at the near waste of food caused by his own competitiveness, or embarrassed at the doubled mass Zoro could carry as compared to him. But instead, he could only think of the patch of skin that had felt the pressure of Zoro’s body, and how he was in way over his head. 

After the milk was unloaded, Zoro still sat for a moment at the end of the van, though there was far less strain in this haul. Sanji still got him a glass of water, and he seemed content enough to drink it. 

“Sorry,” Sanji finally coughed out. It would’ve been a pain for both of them if the milk had dropped, but at the trajectory it was going it probably would have splashed Zoro the most, had it impacted the floor and burst open. 

“It’s fine,” Zoro replied from behind the rim of his glass. “I shouldn’t have told you not to help, it's your workplace too I guess.”

It made Sanji mad how easily he relented. “Well, that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how you trashed Animal Crossing.”

Zoro’s expression scrunched. “Huh?”

Sanji didn’t really know why he was bringing it up. The guy was just trying to be nice. ‘’Don’t think I’ve forgotten the shit you said.”

While Sanji didn’t know why his emotions had grown so high over it, Zoro didn’t either, standing from the van with an expression of frustration. “What did I say?”’

“What, is your brain too small to even remember?”

The other man grit his teeth, but seemed to be making an actual effort to remember what he’d said. It hit Sanji that something that had been bothering him all this time had been an off the cuff remark by the other.

“I just said I thought kids might like it.”

“Yeah!” was all Sanji had to reply, as if it was obvious how offensive it was.

… Which, as he met Zoro’s blank gaze, slowly began to feel like far less of an insult than he’d been taking it as. But if that hadn’t been an insult, surely Zoro breaking into laughter was.

“And I’m the one with a small brain,” he sputtered, after laughing hard enough to double over and clutch his stomach. Who cared if Sanji was curious what that stomach felt like, fuck this guy.

He stormed back into the kitchen, the transaction was complete and as much as he knew he wasn’t an idiot, he couldn’t help but feel like one. Fuck this guy. He was so shitty and even that wasn’t stopping the pang in his chest when met with his laugh.

Only when he heard the van drive away did he let his breathing relax, and only then did he realize he’d never gotten the glass of water back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if shit gets lost at all I don't make outlines so the longer i take between writing sessions the higher the risk i forget to address something, lOL  
> As always I'm happy to read your comments, and I'm so thankful for all you guys have said so far! I'll try to be good about keeping this one updated, of course school and uh, the world allowing.  
> Speaking of the world, I should note that corona isn't a thing in this fic, bc i dont... want to.

Work was hell, but nothing could have been as bad as yesterday, so when Sanji finally got out of the Baratie and back to his apartment he still had the energy to hop on his switch, curl under the covers in bed and work towards making his island the best it could be.

Nami was online, and happy to open her gates to trade fruits. She had oranges, and had already collected coconuts from other islands that she was happy to share. Well- in the way that ‘sharing’ always worked with Nami, he didn’t mind promising a few letters with any cute clothes he might find in return.

He gave Blathers what he’d found, paid for a house expansion, and ended the night collecting bamboo from a mystery island of his own. He’d gotten enough mileage points to unlock the pro customization kit, but with a glance at the clock he had to accept that making his Villager remotely well dressed would have to wait for tomorrow. He still wore that drab striped sweater, and the swollen eye wasn’t helping his less than appealing look. But he wasn’t in a rush, he was happy to take the time to savour the experience.

So he put his switch away, texted Nami a quick thank you (mellorine), and fell asleep before she had a chance to reply.

The next morning, as he swiped away his alarm, he smiled to see Nami had replied. Rather than the expected “don't worry about it,” however, he was surprised to see an unfamiliar friend code and the following message:

“A friend of a friend really needs cherries, but I already sold all my spares :( send him some pls?”

Sanji was never one to tell a woman no, and after agreeing he sent a friend request to “TTChopper” before heading to the shower.

When he got out, he sent Nami a followup: “Who’s friend is he?”

“Robin’s. A student of hers, actually. He’s crazy smart.”

Robin! He’d forgotten she was into Animal Crossing, too. He’d have to talk to her about it. While Nami liked Tom Nook, the Turnip Market and the Able Sisters, Robin was surely more interested in the fossils and constellations. Sanji idly wondered if she could tell him how accurate the game bothered to be.

He considered texting her about it now, but restrained himself. Taking the time to talk to Nami was already eating into his morning. So he pocketed his phone, grabbed a quick meal and headed down to help unpack the morning delivery.

It was Zoro again, and seeing the man put a lump in Sanji’s throat. Their last encounter wasn’t exactly pleasant, and hadn’t ended in his favor. But Zoro didn’t seem interested in riling him up, and clambered out of the van with a stifled yawn and blearily blinking eyes. Idly, Sanji grew more concerned for how the man had gotten here with eyes so barely awake than he had been about interacting with the man.

“Morning,” he offered, despite the itch in the back of his mind to get back to the fight he hadn’t won. Zoro replied with a grumble, and Sanji allowed the man to open the back of his van in respite. After a dreary struggle with his key ring, Zoro eventually got the door open, white panel opening to reveal stacks of cardboard boxes piled high with the vibrant colored fruits most Baratie desserts and sweets relied on.

To Sanji’s surprise, Zoro groaned at the sight.

“Not a fan of fruit?” Sanji offered, not understanding the man’s response. To be fair, it might have had to do with being a delivery man-- Sanji had unloaded enough boxes with flimsy paper bottoms to know how annoying fruit were; they were fragile, finicky things. On the financial side, he knew they cost more than most produce to transport, fewer pounds to a box to prevent damaging the flesh, where liquids, hard-fleshed vegetables, grains and meats didn’t need so much caution.

But after the sound of distaste, the man picked up a stack of boxes with the experience of a delivery worker who knew how to keep a box from breaking; cradling the bottom and allowing the weight of the stack to lean towards him to ensure it didn’t rip the side facing out. “If i see another fucking apple this week I might kill someone,” He hissed while Sanji moved to get the door.

Now, he hadn’t meant to laugh, but seeing a man of Zoro’s size, demeanor, and general facial expression show such hatred for a fruit the size of, well, apples, was a little too much. The man was an enigma to him, and while it had brought a bickering side of Sanji out, he found it was also bringing him small delights.

So he laughed, and Zoro glared with dead-tired eyes. That didn’t stop Sanji from finding it funny, but it did sober him. “Allergy, or something?” he proposed, the only rationality he could come up with. Why a man allergic to apples would work in produce delivery didn’t make much sense, though.

Sure enough, as he shouldered through the door and headed to the walk-in, Zoro shook his head. Sanji noted that the man didn’t wear his earrings at work. “It’s that game, Animal Island or, whatever it was called.”

Sanji froze at the door of the walk in. This guy was playing Animal Crossing?

Zoro turned from setting the boxes down, and as he brushed past Sanji he shook himself out of his stupor. Of course Zoro didn’t play it, he’d openly mocked Sanji for playing it on their second meeting. Maybe he’d read a review about it and was disgusted or something. That rationalization didn’t stop his heart from racing at the chance of having another person to talk to about his favorite franchize. 

“Oh? What about it?” he asked innocently, stuffing his hands in his pockets, suddenly very aware of his hands as they conveyed his excitement.

Zoro glanced back at him, but not more than a second. "I got it for my kid brother, a gift for his grades. He made me play it too, and we’ve got all these apples but we need the other fruit, for some fucking reason,”

His voice dipped to a growl as he spoke, truly annoyed at the situation. He was playing animal crossing. Holy Shit.

Sanji wasn’t blind, this guy was hot, he was interesting. Sure, he was annoying, but the kid brother really explained everything the guy had said to offend Sanji’s beloved Animal Crossing. Hot and a mutual interest… even if Zoro was obligated to play because of his brother.

“I just don't get the point--”

“I’ve got cherries,” Sanji blurted, and swore silently at the eagerness in his voice. “I can come to your island, if you want.” he clarified, more cooly this time.

Zoro smiled, and it made Sanji’s heart jump. Fuck, a few muscles moving in his cheeks shouldn’t make him that much hotter. “That’d really help.”

Without giving it much thought, he pulled out his phone, opened the contacts app, and made a new entry for the man, handing it over.

“We can arrange it through text,” Sanji offered. His gaming nostalgia brain shushed the more lustful side of his brain, cheering Sanji on for getting the hunk’s digits.

Zoro didn’t hesitate to punch his number in, and the rest of the delivery they exchanged short, simple thoughts on animal crossing.

Zoro lamented over the “weapons” breaking, Sanji whined that tarantulas were such a big part of the economy. Zoro appreciated jock villagers, Sanji appreciated snooty ones. Sanji learned that, after playing the game three days, Zoro was still in a tent, and that he and his brother apparently hadn’t bothered to weed the place, or to even consider where they’d placed their homes and villager’s homes. Zoro claimed it wasn’t fun, and though Sanji fundamentally disagreed, he found he couldn’t find a way to argue it. When the van was empty and Zoro had drank his water, Sanji wasn’t satisfied with the conversation ending. He only ever got to talk to Nami about this kind of stuff, but there was only so much they could talk about it. 

Ultimately, Zoro was the one that cut the conversation off, handing his empty glass over and standing from the boot. “I’ll text you after work for the cherries.” 

While Sanji didn’t want to stop, the promise of a continuation helped keep him from protesting. He took the glass and nodded. “Tonight, then.”

Zoro left, and Sanji went back to the kitchen. He prepped quickly with a pep in his step, and found the extra time to experiment with some cherry salad vinaigrettes. He was feeling inspired. When the rest of the morning staff filtered in, his pleasant mood was contagious, and once customers arrived, they worked more efficiently than usual. 

Only Zeff bothered to ask, once he came in after noon, what the hell had Sanji in such a damn good mood.

But what was he going to tell his dad? He had a crush, he’d gotten to talk about some dumb game he played to destress? No, he simply kept to himself and told the old man to stop snooping. Patty and Carne made their own conclusions, perverted remarks making Zeff and Sanji grow a deep red in record time, and making Zeff kick their asses even faster.

Watching his dad chase Patty over a countertop with a frying pan, Sanji’s grin only broadened. Work was stressful, and he may take each day looking forward to what came after, but he wouldn’t trade cooking, or the people he cooked with, for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how repetitive everything is, once they get to know each other better we can skip the kinda cyclical thing going on of unloading, cooking, evening, morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter; can't spend too much time writing for the next week until finals are over, then I should be a lot more active on here! didn't wanna keep y'all waiting forever though so I got this much together, at least.

Work flowed smoothly, and Sanji even managed to have the free time to continue working with the inspiration gained in the morning, designing his own little nerdy dessert, layered coconut and cherry mousses, mandarin orange slices, and a pear-apple and cinnamon puree swirled within. The balance was off, there was something missing. But it was still damn good.  
When his phone buzzed, alerting him of a text, he got on animal crossing, a quick back and forth having Nami’s island as the meeting place to give Robin’s student his native fruit.

Spoon sticking out of his mouth, a temporary alternative for a cigarette he was beginning to itch for, he made quick work of collecting enough fruit and picking out a cute gift for Nami as thanks for hosting. 

His character was not unlike himself; blond with both eyes visible, to his chagrin. Nami had jokingly given him an eyepatch, which he wore unironically. Otherwise he was blond, pale, and, now that he was getting the able sisters and thanks to Nami’s generosity, primly dressed in a navy suit. 

With an inventory full of cherries and a bag of bells for Nami, he made his way to the airport, past the cutscene, and onto Nami’s island. 

She, too, had chosen to favor her own real appearance in her character’s presence, though her fashion was more cute than her normal preference for skin-bearing sex appeal. It was, Sanji thought resignedly, truly a child’s game. Instead, she wore something more befitting of other aspects of her personality, a sleek red career suit jacket, sunglasses and sparkly heels. Her character wore the shortest shorts available.

Sanji took the time to type his adulation for her presence in the in-game chat, painstakingly slow and over the character limit for just one message-- but worth it, to show her the kindness she deserved.

She preferred to just text her replies.

It wasn’t long before the cutscene for “Chopper” from “Sakura” to pop up, Sanji and Nami only having to wait long enough to find Tangy crafting an orange clock, and for Sanji to silently wonder who Nami was paying to keep her island just perfectly in tune with her.

Chopper’s character truly took advantage of the game’s artstyle, perfectly babyish and cute, a desire to protect the person behind the avatar seeping from Sanji’s core. He talked to Sanji only through the in game emote system, something Sanji didn’t have access to yet. Sanji gave him the cherries, and in return Chopper gave him a kitchenette. His phone buzzed, Nami providing the explanation that she had informed Chopper that he was a cook.  
With a smile on his face, he took the time to thank Chopper, and to add him to his best friends list. Soon enough there was no reason for them all to stay on Nami’s island, and they departed, Sanji taking to improving his island and selecting residents as he waited for Zoro.

It was almost midnight when his phone finally purred with a message, and Sanji let his heart flutter despite the childishness of it. Not like Zoro was texting him for any of the fantasies he was entertaining, but the butterflies in his chest wouldn’t stop batting at his ribcage.  
That would have been true, if Zoro hadn’t texted him just three letters.

“Nvm”

So maybe he felt like he’d gotten punched in the gut over a text from a guy he barely knew. Maybe he promptly shut his game off and lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling for longer than was reasonable for a simple ‘nvm.’ This was that shit he was always warned about, he let his emotions get the best of him. Everyone said so, and everyone had to remind him every time he thought he’d found The One.

But this isn’t the one, Sanji knows that. Zoro’s just some shitty deliveryman who happens to play the same game he likes. He’s just some guy. It shouldn’t fucking matter.

He wasn’t oblivious to this pattern his brain, his heart, put him through. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up; it wasn’t like he needed any more friends; he barely had time for the ones he had. He didn’t have time for this guy, as a friend or… if it became more than that.

But it wouldn’t, he was hot but that was where affection ended.

He stayed up later than he should have. When he woke, his jaw hurt from how hard he’d been clenching it.

He denied how his hopes got up as he got ready for work and awaited the delivery van. Maybe it’d be like the kid brother reveal, there’d be a reason, he’d just gotten busy. They would get along fine and have another sexually tense moment carrying heavy packages… they’d get along, at least.

He tried to stuff those squirming butterflies down as he heard the van arrive. He put up a cool face as he opened (harshly, really “kicked” being a better verb) the door from the kitchen to the loading lot. 

“You better have a damn good explanation, bastard.” Sanji hissed as the door opened, taking advantage of the outside air to light a quick cigarette.

Usopp stepped out from the van.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;) it'd be too easy if they just started playing and bonding properly at chapter 4


	5. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok its still about animal crossing i promise i just needed to write whatever was in my head and it was this ok?? worlds wild and sanji is getting drunk at a party because I cant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! sorry it's been a while. its just... -waves vaguely at everything-  
> I've had a hard time picking up animal crossing lately, I've been feeling guilty for being less than productive and playing animal crossing feeds that guilt, so this fic is actually kinda harder for me to get into working on. But!! I decided to counter that by having this chapter focus less on building that AC progress. next chapter is gonna be way more about AC as compensation. Also, I'm trying to keep this from being as horny as my other stuff, so there won't be any explicit sex scenes, as much as there's been lots of thirst on sanji's part, lol.
> 
> Stay safe, address your mental health, and if you can, donate. shits fucked, do what's right.

“It was the black plague, I swear! It’s only by my own amazing immune system that I survived.”

Sanji couldn’t find it in himself to point out how ridiculous the idea Usopp had the plague was. He couldn’t find it in himself to kick the shit out of the liar either; though it was damn tempting. Instead, he chainsmoked by the door to the kitchen and punished Usopp for his sick days by making him empty the truck himself.   
A truck full of milk, he lamented. He could have been watching Zoro’s arms flex at the weight, rather than Usopp’s wobbling with the effort.

Every time he came back out from the freezer he had a new excuse, and Sanji didn’t listen to a word he said until Zoro’s name passed his lips. He’d missed whatever he’d said before mentioning his name.

“Zoro though, he’s a great guy. Can’t drive for shit without a GPS, but he’s great at taking extra shifts, especially when you promise to add him to your will.” 

Strangely, Sanji got no sense of a lie out of that statement. Not that Usopp had much to write onto a will. “Never seen the guy before last week,” Sanji murmured. He refused to let any interest show in his voice.

“He’s new, lots of history with all sorts of labor and factory work but he only just got his license. No idea why the guy keeps hopping jobs.”

Sanji puffed his cigarette while Usopp clapped his hands together, the last of the milk stocked. There must have been something in Sanji’s expression, or maybe Usopp just felt bad, he always found a way to feel bad. “Listen, I know he’s kinda rough around the edges; I shouldn’t have left you with him without a warning.”

Sanji frowned deeper before letting his shoulders drop and sighing a mouthful of white smoke out through his nose. “I’m not mad at you, Usopp.”

“You look pissed, can’t blame me for assuming,” Usopp puffed his chest out and grinned a nervous grin. Sanji couldn’t help smile back, though it was a small one. 

“I don’t care who’s dropping food off, as long as they get it here. It’s other stuff. Same shit as always.”

Usopp’s eyes flickered with understanding. “Again? Man you work more than anyone else we know, how do you have the time to get your heart broken?”

Sanji flinched. “I didn’t say that--”

“Who is it? You know Nami will kick their ass for ya. I’ll watch.”

“It’s no one, Usopp, I didn’t even get my heart ‘broken,’ I just...” He sighed, forced his hand into a fist rather than wresting another cigarette from his pocket. “Fantasies got to my head. I barely know them. I just know it’s not gonna work out, no matter what I'm… imagining.”

“Gross.” Usopp knew exactly what Sanji tended to… imagine. He stepped into Sanji’s space, patting his shoulders firmly, grinning more genuinely. “Let’s get you fucked up! Forget all about… whoever it is. Party at my place. Luffy, Nami… whoever else! I’ll have Nami call all her single friends, and Luffy’s a magnet for that shit. You’ll find someone, guarantee it.”

Knowing there wasn’t exactly a high chance of finding The One at a party at Usopp’s didn’t deter him from craving the distraction. He could only go back and forth between work and games so much. A change of setting would be good.

“I’m not free till Friday.” Sanji knew Usopp would take that as a yes.

“Friday it is!”

Friday came with little interruption. Work was grueling, and it didn’t go unnoticed that Sanji had lost whatever groove he’d been in. He was reminded by the chef’s reactions that he was loved, even if not in the way he craved. As shitty as they were, Patty and Carne had been kids once, they got whatever Sanji was feeling. “It’ll pass,” Carne had said vaguely. Patty had insisted on taking the more intense stations, and Zeff, for all his gruff exterior, made sure Sanji didn’t stay too late, making sure chefs didn’t pile up dishes or messes no matter how busy it got.

Even with the cushioning, it was still a high end restaurant with a need for focus and endurance. After a shift pushing midnight, Friday came and as Usopp’s door opened, Sanji had half the mind to walk straight to Usopp’s couch and pass out.

With the noise that spilled through the door, he doubted that would happen any time soon.

Luffy was a party animal, more than most could brag to be. Usopp was Luffy’s level when he was drunk, but he didn’t have the connections that Luffy had to turn a casual house party into a minor rave. With their powers combined, Usopp’s house was stifling with bodies, heat, and music. The stench of beer permeated as deeply as the smell of sweat. It was a sensory explosion.

Sanji greeted Usopp with a bottle of Cherie in one hand and his switch in the other. It didn’t seem like he’d prepared for the right kind of party. In hindsight, maybe he should have expected exactly what lie before him. Familiar but unnamed faces floated in the room behind Usopp-- the red haired amputee and his lanky emo boyfriend-- those two were practically glued to Luffy’s side. Nami’s red hair flickered through the crowd and with it Vivi’s blue ponytail, her cheeks already flush with booze. He was still eyeing the crowd when Usopp’s voice managed to push past the sound. “Got mario kart on the big TV, we’ll need your joycons!”

He let himself get dragged into the throng of people. Someone took the wine from him, and he made no effort to stop them. It was going to get drunk sooner or later. He hadn’t realized how late it was.

Usopp held his wrist and pulled him along, his wobbly gait betraying his own insobriety. Sanji was thrust onto a crowded couch between two figures he didn’t recognize, and a red cup was shoved between his fingers. He drank from it, eager to catch up to the crowd.

Whatever was in the cup was strong enough to have no distinct taste, and soon enough he wasn’t particularly concerned over if he was winning or losing the race. He was more focused on the thigh touching his. Usopp hadn’t been out of his mind, stirring up a party just to distract him from his love troubles. Maybe if he got drunk enough he’d get stupid enough to get a quick lay.

He leaned his weight on the man beside him, testing the waters. He was fairly nondescript, but he was muscular, and not offensive in appearance. That was all Sanji needed right now-- his standards weren’t exactly high.

Evidently, neither were the stranger’s, because soon enough there was a hand on his thigh, and then Sanji was getting straddled and lips were fighting his for dominance.

He tasted like alcohol, and his kiss was aggressive and needy. There was no pretense or false hope from either of them, Just raw desire. Sanji was still sober enough to keep his pants on until they found a private room, not sober enough to realize it was Usopp’s bedroom. Not that that would have stopped him, probably.

Anything that happened was quick and sloppy, and blurry. It evidently wasn’t satisfying, either. Sanji was still fit enough to make himself decent and find his way back to the kitchen for more alcohol while his partner lay content on Usopp’s bed.

He found himself downing more shots, and then a hand was on his arm, and a nice, rumbling voice in his ears, and then he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if this isn't meshing with the rest of the story. I haven't worked on it in a hot minute so if it seems disconnected I might rework it. Thanks for comments, kudos, and reading in general!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for how repetitive everything is, once they get to know each other better we can skip the kinda cyclical thing going on of unloading, cooking, evening, morning.


End file.
